


Ye Maca Timiquican, Ye Maca Tipolihuican

by ktbl



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comic: Mortal Kombat X, F/M, Incomplete, Outworld (Mortal Kombat), Pre-Game: Mortal Kombat X
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:40:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25648972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktbl/pseuds/ktbl
Summary: After the Reiko Accords, Kotal Kahn proposes an officer exchange program to Colonel Sonya Blade. She's less than enamored of the idea - until a few things line up to make it a proposal she just can't turn down.
Relationships: Sonya Blade/Takahashi Kenshi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Ye Maca Timiquican, Ye Maca Tipolihuican

**Author's Note:**

> The title is an example of parallelism, which was used in Nahuatl, and seemed to suit based off of the involvement with Kotal Kahn and his slant on Outworld. It means "may we not die, may we not perish" in Nahuatl.

Sonya’s eyes barely glanced away from the display in front of her as Kenshi entered the office.

“You need to go home, Colonel,” the swordsman said pointedly, approaching her desk.

“Can’t. There’s some new intel - a new request, actually.” She sighed heavily, looking up at Kenshi. He was in his full armor, the new set he had arranged for after his recovery from the Red Dragons, and the mess that had ensued in Outworld. She thought it suited him, even if it was, to her eyes, needlessly complicated - plates and buckles, more armor and protection, and the red armored coat that went over it all. It kept him safe, and that was what mattered. She was still on the fence about the facial hair he’d started to grow; she couldn’t decide if it made him look distinguished or like he was on the run. Possibly both. “Kotal Kahn has formally requested an officer exchange. Training. Someone, or several someones, to go from our side to his, and for some Outworlders to come here, and learn the ropes.”

“Oh, that’s interesting.” He dropped into the chair in front of her desk, and kicked his feet up on it. She glared at him, and leaned forward, swatting at his boots.

“Off my desk.”

“The soles aren’t on it,” he answered, folding his hands in his lap. “And I am not leaving until you are. Your actual XO has informed me in no uncertain terms that you are to be brought home, and preferably confirmed unconscious in your bed, if I have to hit you over the head to do it.”

“You’ve been back, what, six hours? And I’m already getting the two of you teaming up on me? Christ.” She turned back to the display. “I need to get him replaced.”

“He’s too competent. And no one else will take the position without significant enticements. Tell me about the proposal?”

“Oh, so you want to get the hell out of here that fast?” She snorted, and then inhaled deeply. He didn’t smell like the recycled purified air the base kept pumping through, but there was a scent like crisp night air that came off of him, crisp night air and maybe… She wrinkled her nose, inhaled again.

“Sparring? Outside? You smell like outside, and sweat.”

“You’re getting better.” A smile pulled at his mouth.“But you’re avoiding the question.”

“He wants me to go over there and discuss it in more depth. The proposal is eight officers or equivalents, periods of six months, training in fighting as well as in customs. He knows I’ll never approve eight Outworlders here for six months, but it’s a starting point.” She reached for her mug and lifted it to her lips, then frowned - empty.

“Are you going to take him up on it?”

She could tell by his questions he was interested - not entirely surprising, given his wanderlust. 

“Don’t know. It’s a lot - security risks, putting our soldiers at risk in Outworld - especially since he still hasn’t settled the problem with Mileena. How I’m going to manage introducing Outworlders over here - I’d have to stipulate they’re humanoid. No Shokan, no Tarkatans, no Kytinn or whatever else he can scrape up.”

“Don’t want Mileena?”

“Don’t you joke.” Sonya pointed a finger at him over the desk, then pulled her hand away. It made her feel good but she was never entirely sure how much of it he saw, or cared to acknowledge. “I still can’t decide how I feel about that whole thing.”

“Ah, your militaristic sense of hierarchy and order, warring with what is ju-“

“Don’t start, not now.” She held up her hand then, voice curt. “It’s been a long day, I’m not in the mood to argue Outworld politics. Far as I’m concerned they can both keep killing each other and keep out of Earth’s affairs. One less thing I have to deal with.”

“Finish up your work and I will escort you home. Apparently you have not been there for a day and a half?”

“Goddamn you people,” she swore, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Colonel, you very clearly do, or you wouldn’t be in this position.” Kenshi shifted in the chair, a smirk playing over his lips. She narrowed her eyes, tilted her head, and glared at him. “To answer your earlier question - I was at the Sky Temple, with Fujin, sparring. Few of your soldiers know how to use their swords in anything more than a merely ceremonial fashion.”

“So of course you go for fighting with a god.” She pressed her lips together in a thin smile. “Suits your ego.”

“There is no one better.”

“You or him?” She raised a brow, and watched the amusement, consideration, and irritation play across the man’s features, brow dropping, mouth twitching, muscles flexing slightly. “Hah. Got you there.”

“You should try wielding a sword some time, Colonel.”

“And get myself humiliated in front of everyone? Hard pass. We had to learn a little bit in officer’s training, but pretty sure I’d be flat on my ass in thirty seconds. Even my ego won’t handle that.” She rolled her head around on her neck, and winced at the series of pops; Kenshi merely chuckled.

“Perhaps I will forcibly take you, the next time I go.”

“If I’m not stuck in Outworld,” she responded sourly. “Alright. The rest of this can wait until tomorrow.” She leaned back in her chair, pushing back on the desk with her fingers and rising.

“I would point out you could consider it a training experience, and thus not taking time off.” He paused, dropping his booted feet off her desk and standing smoothly. The bastard was older than her, she mused, but still managed to be smoother in his movements. Too much time behind a desk, that’s what it had to be. She stopped watching him in time, focused enough to hear him continue speaking. “Except I know that would not do anything.”

“Damn you,” she swore tiredly, walking around the edge of the desk. “If you’re supposed to escort me home, on my own goddamned budget, might as well. We can talk over this damn Outworld thing, too.” Her fingers moved of their own accord, reaching down and snagging a pair of gauntlets off the edge of the desk and clipping them onto her belt. She leaned against the desk, closing her eyes for a moment. She reached for the files in her outbox, and her hand connected with Kenshi’s arm. In the moment she’d taken to close her eyes, he’d come to stand in front of her, hands planted on either side of her.

She swallowed once, reminded abruptly again by how much bigger he was than her. Not significantly - it wasn’t like Jax, where she felt like a child, but Kenshi had height and width on her nonetheless. Her heartbeat kicked up into a higher gear, and she watched his lips purse, a smile flash across his face.

“You’re in my space,” she said evenly, reaching over his arm for the files with a deliberate stretch.

“Want me to move?”

Her eyes flicked to the door, ajar and with the shadows of people passing through the hall.

“You know the answer to that.” She swallowed once, with difficulty. “Need you to, though. I gotta drop these off, and then you can promise you’ve gotten me home.” She watched his face, the dance of expressions across it, and then he stepped back and gestured for her to lead on.

“I think I even have food,” she added as an afterthought as the door shut behind them. “Or I’m gonna gnaw someone’s arm off.” She walked to her aide’s office and she lifted up the files. He had a phone receiver pressed to his ear, so he motioned to his desk. She dropped the files on it, and turned to Kenshi, walking back down the hall with him.

“I did not think you had become a Tarkatan, or picked up their dietary habits, and if I am to - escort you home - I would prefer not to be a meal.” He brushed up against her as they walked down the hall, and she inhaled quickly at the brush of his gloved fingers along the back of her hand. She could see the satisfied hint of a smile pull at his lips, and she resisted the urge to elbow him. Instead, she proceeded to think - very loudly, very clearly, very deliberately, about just what she would do to him instead. His mouth twisted sideways in a grin, but he kept walking, and with the sort of deliberate casual contact he had mastered over the years, brushed against her hand again, a fingertip slowly trailing from the tip of one of her fingers to her wrist. She swore mentally, knowing he could hear her body’s reactions to him. His laugh, quiet and low, was answer enough.

“Out of my head.”

“Afraid I will find something you don’t want me to?”

“One of these days, you’re gonna flip over the wrong neuron, or something, and find something you don’t want to.”

“The workings of your mind, Colonel Blade, will not cease to amaze me.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not.”

They made it to her truck, and she wrested open her door and had begun planning precisely what she was going to say to him about his shenanigans in the hall as she extracted him from his armor when her phone rang. She glanced across to where Kenshi stood, hand on the door handle of the passenger’s side. She had a moment, even in the dim light of the parking area, to watch his shoulders fall as she answered it.

“Colonel Blade,” she answered, leaning her forehead against the cool metal of the door frame.

“We’ve got something, Colonel,” came her aide’s voice.

“You couldn’t’ve told me five minutes ago when I walked past your office?”

“The call just came in. Evidence of Outworld and the Black Dragon, they’re sending information, photographs and files, over. Thought you’d want to see it fresh.”

She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers into the bridge of her nose. She rubbed at it and the corners of her eyes as she listened. “Alright. Get it set up in one of the rooms, or sent over to my desk, and someone find me a fucking hamburger or something so I don’t chew off someone’s arm. Make sure there’s something for Kenshi, too - poor idiot’s still with me. Blade out.” She pocketed the phone, inhaled deeply, and then stepped away and closed the door.

“I assume you heard all that, so I won’t repeat it.”

“Going to have to put a hold on those plans, then?”

“Fuck you,” she swore again, and he let out a soft laugh as he turned to walk back inside with her.

“I’m looking forward to it.” He nudged her with his shoulder, turning his face down towards her. “It simply looks like it may be further delayed.”

“Like seeing my bed,” she said with a half-barked laugh as they moved back towards the headquarters building. “Alright. You’re back on base, you’re back to work. You ready?”

“Am I ever not?”

“Like music to my ears.” She bumped him with her shoulder in turn. “God, I love that you’re competent.”

“I suppose I should be happy to know that you want me for my mind,” he murmured, and she snorted, stepping to one side as a group of soldiers opened the door to leave.

“Oh, trust me, I need you for that body, too. Who else am I supposed to hide behind?”

She ducked into the building with a smirk, the sputtering sounds made by the departing staff satisfactory recompense.

Not long later, she dropped into her still-warm chair. “What’s the intel?”

“Fairly straightforward, ma’am. More evidence - and recent - that the Black Dragon have been trading with Outworld,” her aide replied.

“How the fuck,” she asked, fingers curling into a fist, “does that happen when Kano and Jarek and Tasia and Tremor are all locked up in Kotal Kahn’s dungeons?”

“Well-“ Her aide slid the file folder of printed images towards her. She opened it, frowning, and looked over to Kenshi as he sat in the chair he hadn’t vacated long ago.

“It’s all images, dated from the past twenty-four hours, and it looks like Jarek and Tasia. No Kano or Tremor.” Her voice tightened as she described them to Kenshi, and her eyes played over the images. “Wooden crates with the Black Dragon logo, but they’re filled with things that look like they’re from Outworld. Gold, chains and necklets and bracelets, goblets and something that looks like a set of Tarkatan arm blades set into a bracer.” She leaned back in the chair, looking across the table to Kenshi and the aide.

“Goddamnit, they were supposed to be locked up. And we know Kano was fucking around, selling to Kotal, and…” She trailed off, feeling her nails dig into her palms. “Goddamnit. Now I have to agree.”

“Do you think Kotal planned this? Knowing it would get you to go to Outworld?” Kenshi’s voice was curious, but calm. “Would he have released them?”

“Not if he wants these Accords to stand. I don’t think they can afford a civil war that gets any worse. He knows - especially with what happened, with Cassie and Jacqui getting kidnapped, and with Takeda even being involved, that this is incredibly fragile. It would be unbelievably stupid to let Kano and his goons go free while he’s proposing an officer exchange.”

“It gets them out of reach of you,” Kenshi pointed out with the kind of implacable logic he could expend on everything except the Red Dragon. She narrowed her eyes, and one hand uncurled long enough to spread out on the table, sliding through the pictures again. “And Kotal Kahn is no idiot to keep your enemy in the dungeons where you can reach him. You would have Kano dead in a heartbeat if it could be managed.”

“Longer ’n that,” she said blithely. “He doesn’t deserve a quick death.” She looked up to her aide. “You said there was more, that brought me back in? Instead of letting me get this tomorrow?”

“It’s Black Dragon, and you have-“

“Yes, yes,” she said, waving a hand. “You know me.”

“And it’s also a matter of the officer exchange program. And the fact that I did not want to have you start in on me first thing in the morning about why I didn’t notify you immediately. Ma’am.”

“He’s got you there.”

“Kenshi, you’re not the damned peanut gallery.”

“I’m an advisor,” the swordsman answered. “I”m advising.”

“You’re being a pain in my ass.” She sighed and ruffled through the glossy photographs. “And all of this was where?”

“Philippines, Sulu Archipelago area.”

“Why am I not fucking surprised. Alright… get whatever other intel we can on this, because that’s sure as shit Black Dragons boxes and what looks like Outworld loot in them in payment, and members of the organization. Things have gotten complicated.” She slid everything back in the folder. “I’m going home, get me a briefing scheduled for tomorrow with whatever updates there are. Welcome back to the shit show, Kenshi.”

“Get some sleep, ma’am,” her aide said, breaking professional decorum for a moment. “The more intel we can gather on their movements, the more we’ll have for you.”

“So don’t set foot in the office til after eight?” She raised an eyebrow, and huffed. “I gotta get his ass updated on the officer exchange proposal and then back to his place. Won’t darken the desk til eight oh five.” She stood up, shook her head, and looked to him. “You too. Get the information coming in and then rack out.”

As they left, Kenshi let his gloved hands deliberately drift against her again, brushing against her thigh as they walked. “So it looks like your decision has been made for you then, Colonel.”

“It does,” she said irritably. “Between Black Dragon and this officer exchange thing, Earthrealm’s caught square in the middle. Again. God, I fucking wish they’d leave me alone. And how I’m supposed to do this, caught up in the deployments and ops and everything else…” She dropped into irritable muttering, and he was wise enough to keep silent, even as they settled into her truck. She glared at the phone, dropping it into an empty cupholder. She glanced down at a sudden weight. Kenshi’s hand was settled down on her leg, splaying wide and comfortably over the curve of her thigh.

“There is an idea you should consider,” he offered, fingers curling up and then spreading out in a slow, repetitive motion over her uniform trousers.

“What’s that? Hire myself a consultant to handle all this bullshit?” She raised a brow, keeping her eyes on the road. “Tried that, he tries to get out of it more often than not. Not around half the time anyway. And I’m not gonna try to sucker Jax into it, either.”

“You could also simply leave Special Forces and go off on your own.”

She was grateful they were on a straight shot, because she wouldn’t have been able to make a turn.

“Colonel Blade, lost for words?”

“Wondering how the fuck that would work. No, I need the resources that the government can provide, to make things happen. I can’t protect everyone who needs it without that.”

“There may be an alternative.” His fingers kept up the steady, almost kneading motions, on her thigh.

“Not tonight. Too much shit to think about.” She flattened a hand on the steering wheel. “You can throw your half-assed mad scheme at me once these other things are dealt with.”

“I do not scheme,” he said, almost indignantly, hand slipping towards the inside of her thigh, but there was a smile on his face as he said it.

“Right. You don’t scheme, and I take vacation days.”

They feigned professionalism long enough to get out of her truck and into the house, door shut firmly behind them and locks engaged. That was as long as either of them could manage; his gloved hands slid around her hips and down to cup the curves of her ass, lifting her up. Her thighs gripped at his waist and her hands curled around his neck. He took a few steps, familiar with the layout of her house, and she laughed, tucking her head against him. This felt good, felt right, felt safe.

“Let me get my damn boots off, first.”

He mouthed at her neck, sitting down on the couch, and nipped at the skin along her throat. “I am not sorry at all.”

“Kinda guessed, what with your hands all over me on post.”

“All over you?”

“By our standards.”

He snorted, crossing his arms around her back and holding her against him, armor and all. “I suppose you have a point.”

“I always do.” She ran her fingers through his hair, traced the lines of the red blindfold to the back of his head. “Look, I need a shower and something to eat. You want anything?” He shook his head beneath her hands, and she considered unpicking the tie. “Alright. How about you go up, start extracting yourself from that kit, and I’ll be up in a couple of minutes.”

“Don’t burn the house down.”

“Says the blind man.” She pushed him in the chest with her hand, sliding off him. “Just for that, gonna make it a three-course meal.”

“I’d be surprised if you manage anything other than a piece of fruit. If you have any.”

“I think there’s a plum that hasn’t gone off, if I’m lucky.”

She climbed the stairs shortly thereafter, having scavenged herself hasty meal including that vaguely-remembered plum, gone soft and sweet and nearly bursting with juice. Every step was exhausting, but it brought her closer to a shower and her bed. Kenshi was busy divesting himself of his armor.

“It’s like watching someone shell a crab or a lobster,” she commented. “You need a hand?”

“No, I can manage.”

“Alright. I’m going to hit the shower, then.” She walked past him and he caught her fingers with his. He pulled her in and kissed her fingertips, tongue curling around them as he caught the sticky-sweet of the too-juicy plum. He made a soft satisfied noise, mouth trailing its way down her hand, tongue tracing the juice’s path along to her wrist. She felt her heartbeat kick up again as he mouthed at her pulse just over her wrist before pulling up and leaning in to kiss her lips. She ran her fingers through the short thatch of beard on his face, feeling the stiff hairs crunch. She pulled back and cupped his face with one hand. “Fifty bucks says I’m done before you’re out of this gear.”

“Not if you’re washing your hair.” He tugged on her braid like a badly-behaved schoolboy, and she snorted and elbowed him gently. “And I thought you said you were eating a plum, not washing your hands with it.”

“It was good, all full of juice and damn near perfect. Not going to scrub down twice. Anyway. If you’re going to insist on that ridiculous kit, I’m going to have to get some kind of dressmaker’s dummy or an armor stand for all of it. What is there, a dozen layers?” She stepped back as he worked some of the fastenings for the coat loose, then slipped out of it and lay it out on the short table she’d set aside for him.

“Not quite,” he replied, and she snorted, leaning in to brush her lips across his cheek and the prickle there, before disappearing to the bathroom and the siren song of hot water. If she was going to have to go to Outworld, this might be her last good, hot shower for a time. Baths they had aplenty, but nothing like a high-pressure massage head on a shower and nearly searing heat. She was going to enjoy the hell out of it.

When she emerged and peered into the bedroom, she couldn’t keep the chuckle in. Kenshi lay sprawled in the bed, eyes closed, breathing slow and regular. Bastard could sleep anywhere, and she envied it. She saw the bare skin of one shoulder, quirked a brow, and then shook her head. If he’d been training with Fujin, then coming back here, and staying up this ridiculously late, he’d earned his sleep - no matter how much she wanted to do anything with him except that, and he’d planned on it as well. She toweled her hair and put it into a plait, and then tugged on an ancient tee shirt and shorts before snagging her tablet off her nightstand. She’d just skim her inbox again, before racking out - if he was already asleep, what harm could it do?

One last look at her tablet. When she blinked, an hour had passed and her inbox was marginally neater. She dropped the tablet back on the nightstand and turned off the light, stretching out in the bed. There was a certain kind of bliss in being horizontal somewhere other than her office couch. She stretched out, fingertips to toes, and yawned, and thought no more.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Found this sitting in a folder. I know how it will go but I’m not sure when I’ll get to work on it again, and thought some of you might enjoy it, even in part. I usually don’t like to post until I’ve got most of a story done, or at least a good buffer, but I have no idea if this will ever get more added to it. I figured I ought to toss it out there as-is anyway.


End file.
